


Proper Place

by RootCellar



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8901235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RootCellar/pseuds/RootCellar
Summary: Everything has one.





	

The job had become too much rigmarole. It wasn’t boredom, per se, but a lack of originality that seemed to dull his mood. Perpetually. Things were all well and good, usually, but his mind had been wandering for days now. Weeks, maybe. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t deceive himself regarding the state of things. Liars were to be despised, of course. It was fortuitous, then, that a miracle happened.

He'd seen it squirming for a few days now, behind a crumbling part of the wall that management had let slowly fall apart. At first it was simply a coincidence, he thought. A trick coopted between his aging senses and the passing of time. Maybe a symptom of a greater madness. Or, more reasonably, something shifting in the gloom of the empty space. The building settling, even. As the weeks rolled by and the wall further eroded, he saw it for what it was.

It took some effort to make his way into the crevice properly. Piles of junk, faulty parts, and suit appendages had been piled over the years, most of which he hadn’t seen since… Well, for a very long time, anyhow. He was nothing if not patient, so he smiled and set to work, widening the gap while taking care not to make too much of a mess. Janitorial services worked far too hard already.

Over the many days he spent laboring his associates would needle him with questions.

“Whatcha doin’ there, boss?”

“You taking up masonry? I mean, I’d help, but, y’know, these hands were only meant to hold a guitar. Sorry.”

He’d shoo them away, giving whatever promises and placations he needed to draw their focus elsewhere. This was for him, after all. They simply wouldn’t understand. After a few weeks he’d finally gained entrance to the strange space behind the wall, and there he’d found it. Exactly what he was looking for, and all he could feel was a cathartic sense of rightness as he moved it into the hall.

“Woah, what’s that ya found there, Freddy?”

“Hush,” he whispered, “go about your business.”

The smile hadn’t left his face, not since he first found the hole. He moved it to the workroom, gently setting his new toy on the floor. Its limbs shook and creaked as he gazed down upon it, and his face strained to contain his grin.

"My,” he spoke softly, “aren't we the curiosity?"

The twitching ceased for a moment, and he could only hope it was trepidation that held it in reproach. 

“I don’t think you’re one of ours, quite frankly. Too old. Too tattered. We simply don’t make them like you anymore. What does that mean, I wonder?”

The creature began trembling anew, unable to hide its nervousness.

“I’ll let you ponder on it for a while, I think. Perhaps we’ll chat later.”

He left the workroom, careful not to bump into any of the construction materials near the entrance. The repair staff was in charge of nearly every aspect of the building’s infrastructure, including renovations, so having the typical wares needed for such things was hardly a surprise. But it was rather annoying. Hard to keep things in order when all the little skittering things acted in such a sloppy manner. Then again, perhaps he should be grateful the staff had been so remiss in their repairs. He’d move the bricks and paraphernalia later; for now, he’d give his guest some much needed breathing room. It was always best to allow things to ripen a bit before having a bite.

\-----

He’d given the workroom a wide berth for the past few days and instructed much the same to his subordinates. Nothing was to ruin this for him. There were so few things he allowed himself to indulge in, so this was a necessary departure from the norm. He gave up much for the sanity of his coworkers, but not this. This was his. And he’d been grinning for days.

It had taken some careful maneuvering during the daylight hours to obtain what he was looking for, but he had found it. Simply amazing what some patrons would do for an autograph. He noted mentally how easy it was to herd the clientele into doing what he needed for another time. For now, he had what he required, and there was reading to be done.

It was dry material, but fruitful. Countless words passed his eyes and before he knew it the promised day had arrived; he nearly sprinted to the room. What was this feeling that had overcome him lately? Apprehension? Giddiness? He wasn’t concerned with the specifics, but he was certainly enjoying the effects. He opened the door slowly, not wanting to overly frighten his new friend. He hoped they could be friends, at any rate. For a time. He’d enjoy the anxiety while it lasted.

“Hello?” he inquired softly, flicking the light switch as he guided the door open, “Are we finding ourselves in better sorts today?”

There was no answer, but he noticed it had moved. Not much, maybe half a meter, but it had still managed. It looked no less shabby than it had a few days prior, but something was slightly off. He wasn’t feeling that sense of caution, of concern from the thing that he had before. A pity, he thought. Still, there would be time for that later. Some things were to be taught.

“I see you’re feeling a bit better today. While you were lounging here in our lavish accommodations I took the liberty of doing some research.” 

He paused briefly as he circled it, eyes focused on the back of its head as it lay on the floor face down. It convulsed slightly, and that strange euphoria surged strongly within him.

“It’s amazing how much documentation the company kept throughout the years. They have nearly everything. All the models, all the revisions and maintenance manuals. But it still took me a while to find anything on you.”

He knelt down, drawing himself as close as he could without touching. The creature shivered beneath him, enticing a mischievous smile.

“They buried you deep, friend. Why do you suppose they would do that, hmm?”

It wheezed and rattled beneath him, unable or unwilling to respond. He didn’t care which.

“I think it’s because you were a very, very bad boy. I think it’s because you broke the rules, friend.”

He could feel its panic growing, the fear swelling into a tidal wave that he could only be swept up in. Yes, he could say he wasn’t bored now.

“But that’s alright! And do you know why that is?”

The tide ebbed, if only slightly.

“Because we’re a family here at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, and family takes care of its own.”

\-----

After some thoughtful deliberation he began with the hands. Work with the more tactile appendages first, that way he could keep things controlled and orderly. The new tenant’s design was antiquated and wholly different from his own, but he was up to the challenge. He had the paperwork and the schematics, after all. During his work he elected to keep his guest face down, thereby eliminating any chance of reprisal or sudden liveliness. It was important that nothing spoil this.

“You’re really stiff, you know?” he said, smiling as the creature’s feeble movements scraped against the concrete.

It was true; its movement was restrained by an overly tightened chassis as much as it was from being such an ill fit. There was a great deal of maintenance ahead, it seemed.

“So according to the paperwork,” he mumbled, gingerly cradling its wrist while staring at a diagram, “I just need to turn this counter-clockwise, and…”

A loud click sounded, and the creature cooed a bit in response. He figured that was as good of an affirmation as any and proceeded with the other wrist. Within moments the creature’s fingers began scrabbling against the floor, trying to find purchase against anything within reach. A digit weakly scraped against his foot, and any caution he possessed fled. 

“We’ll work on the arms, next.”

\-----

It took several hours but he managed to restore the arms, hands, and shoulder areas to some semblance of working order. The creature was facing up now after he had turned it over, eyes staring blearily up against the harsh light of the room. It looked somewhat surprised to see him, somehow. He hadn’t expected that.

Not content with his progress so far, he moved it into a seated position against the wall, watching as the creature just barely managed to keep itself from sliding back down to the floor. Not much strength to be had in those limbs, he mused.

“So I’ve helped put you back into service, at least in a nominal capacity. Let’s test a few things before proceeding.”

He fetched a brick from the nearby pile, figuring it to be an adequate demonstration both for this process and beyond. 

“Hold this for me,” he spoke sternly, handing it to the creature.

Almost immediately the creature’s hand, weight and all, crashed to the floor. It moaned slightly, fingers trembling around the heavy object.

“Too heavy for you?” he chuckled. “A pity. Its troublesome being so helpless, isn’t it? Not that I’d know.”

Its eyes flared with hatred briefly, glaring with an intensity that would have cowed the others, if only momentarily. It made him laugh, the sheer audacity of the thing. Didn’t it know?

“Honestly, you’re too cute for words,” he chuckled, “Keep that up and I might decide to keep you. Come now, try and lift it again. I’ll loosen the restraints a bit more.”

He moved to unlock the restraints, captivated by those red orbs that followed his every move. Very slowly he spun the spring, never leaving eye-contact. When the creature looked away he felt that feeling crawl up into his core; he would cherish this for every moment that he could. Staring down at its hand, it struggled to lift the masonry, hissing all the while. 

“Come on. You’re a big strong machine, aren’t you?” he laughed, amused at its ineptitude, “This should be nothing.”

As the creature struggled the locks slowly turned, and his eyes drank in everything. The slow, painful twisting of the restraints, the amount of activity and movement necessary to shift the rotation backwards. He’d remember it all, and that would make this perfect. Idly, he wondered if this was what love was, and patted the object of his affection on its matted yellow head. It looked up at him, pupils dilating for a moment in thought before relaxing.

“That’s right, you can trust me. I’ll set things right again, you’ll see. Everything in its proper order.”

\-----

“Bonnie, I’ll need you and Chica to move these materials for me. Do you think you can accomplish that within three days?”

“Uh,” the rabbit grimaced, “I mean, I don’t wanna dirty up my hands before the show tomorrow, so…”

“Just do it,” he stated along with a glare to enforce the point. “You can spend a little extra time doing your narcissistic preening to make up for it, but get it done. Get Chica to help you as well.”

“Alright, Freddy. Sheesh.”

“You’ll see. It’s a nice surprise. You’ll like it, I promise.”

\-----

He never really got the chance to fix things. Manage things, certainly, but never fix things. Never take a direct hand in maintaining order. Such is the life of a leader, he supposed, which made this exercise all the more special. It was so novel getting his hands dirty. Sometimes, when his subordinates would fail, he’d have the chance, but those moments were soured by that same failure. He didn’t relish those times. Now, though, he’d get his reward.

Freeing the creature’s hands and arms proved to be the best decision. Upon entering the workroom that day it immediately set upon him, eyes glowing and brandishing the same brick they’d used for testing. The implement struck down with little effect, the force barely enough to make much of a sound let alone disturb the placement of his hat. He beamed, happy to see such progress in his absence.

“Well done!” he said, noting his guest’s standing posture, “I suppose you worked out the bits with your legs on your own, then?”

His hand darted to grasp the creature’s own, brick and all. It hissed and attempted to pull away, but the attempt made him giggle.

“Come now. You should understand how things work.”

With a flex of his own hand he shattered the brick, bending and contorting the creature's fingers into an unnatural shape. It screeched, and he imagined he would remember how it sang for years to come. With a pained groan it sank to the floor, gazing back up at him with hate and a promise of vengeance in its stare. He was ecstatic now; things could progress much faster than he anticipated. 

Ignoring its pain he reached down, spinning the locks on the arm he held in his grasp rapidly, grinding them as tightly as he could manage. It was screaming now, loudly enough that he was concerned the guard would hear it despite the distance and the late hour. With a sigh he locked the throat screw as quickly as he could, both relieved and saddened when the noise died away.

“If you had just been a bit quieter… Such a waste, really. A tragic waste. Now, let’s start over, yes?”

He gestured to his guest’s unmaimed hand.

“Go ahead and free up that other limb of yours. I want to see how quickly you can manage.”

It snarled, inching away in the gloom of the workroom, eyes darting between him and the exit.

“I’m afraid you’re in no condition to be anything other than compliant. And I can make things less manageable for you,” he stated simply, brandishing the maintenance manual and pointing to a very specific diagram, “See? Right here. That’s how I’d do it. It would be the kind of pain you measure in lifetimes. Now, are you going to be a good boy?”

Its eyes looked down to the floor, then back up to the manual before the defiance behind them died. With some reluctance it began struggling to unlock the faulty limb, hissing and rasping wetly as it worked.

“Very good. Compliance is a hallmark of our establishment.”

His hours belonged to the creature for however long it took to unchain itself from the restraints, and he savored them all, lamenting each as it passed. He made sure to count the seconds well. Near the end, when its work had nearly completed, he moved to end things. He was satisfied with the work rendered.

“Time to sleep for a bit, friend. Rest up for the show.”

He struck swiftly, and for the first time in many years consciousness faded from the tattered monster.

\-----

“Chica, really? Do you have to sit right there? I can’t see anything!”

“What’s there to see, dummy? It’s a wall.”

“Well, birdbrain, there’s a big hole in the wall. What’s in there, huh?”

“That lost coworker guy that Freddy found.”

“Right. That’s what we’re here to see.”

“I don’t get it. Is this that 'performance art' thing I keep hearing about?”

The bear arrived at that moment, carrying a few necessities needed to complete the show. He beamed at the chicken, eyes more alive than any of them remembered.

“Wow,” Chica started, “you look good today, boss. Did the guy in there do something to ya?”

“Something like that,” Freddy chuckled. “Go get Foxy. He should be here.”

Bonnie chuffed a little. “You go do it, Chica, I moved all this stuff here by myself. You wouldn’t even help!”

“Fiiiiiiine,” she answered, “but you better not start without me!”

It took her a few minutes but she managed to coax Foxy to the scene, glitches and all.

“What *zrkt* be this all about, eh?”

“It’s a family affair,” Freddy replied, “and this was a good way for me to get back in the swing of things.”

“Is that what *brzzt* he be in dere for?”

“Yes, Foxy. All part of the plan. Did you expect anything less?”

The pirate fox laughed between shorts and critical system failures. “Nay, suppose not.”

“Boss!” Bonnie yelled excitedly, “He’s waking up!”

It stirred slowly, unhappy that it had awoken at all. It had been close, it felt, to final absolution. Reality was even crueler than it recalled.

“Hello, friend! It’s time to set things right!”

Its eyes swiveled to the bear.

“I told you we were going to fix everything, didn’t I? Well look around, you’re back home."

Panic set in as it recognized the all too familiar walls of the crevice. It wanted to bolt, to hide, to do anything necessary to escape from the place it had been imprisoned for so long, but it could only move a single hand. The bear tsk’ed at the response.

“I like games, friend. Did you know that? It’s a cornerstone of the business. Right there next to compliance. Heck, Freddy Fazbear is all about having fun! So I thought to myself, why not give the poor thing a fighting chance? I mean, it didn’t give one to those kids, but the world is unfair isn’t it?”

Freddy paused for a moment, gesturing to the pile of freshly moved masonry that Bonnie had so helpfully moved days previously.

“Let’s see if you can beat your previous record. Just make it out of there before we’re all done and maybe we’ll see about giving you a promotion. Otherwise… Well, we’ll always be family, even at a distance. Isn’t that right, gang?”

The band hooted in unison.

“Now,” Freddy began, barely containing his excitement, “Foxy can’t really help out with this due to his condition, but he can cheer us on! Is everyone ready to get started? I hope you read the construction tips pamphlet I helpfully provided…”

Chica and Bonnie both nodded with a smile.

“Excellent! Now, let’s get started setting things right!”

It watched them set to work, mixing the mortar and setting the base layer for the first layer of bricks.

“Y’arr *przt* you better be gettin’ started, bucko!”

Fear guided its hand as it set to work, first trying to free the opposing arm. The locks were so much tighter than before, and Freddy flashed it a grin as it struggled. 

\-----

Time passed and layers stacked upon each other. The bear delighted in his efforts. He would have his humanity back now, despite it all. Not a mere thing, an it, or a creature, but something that was once a man finding itself in a perpetual patchwork purgatory. Those rotten machines watched him slowly free himself from the springlocks, each taking longer than before because of the strength with which they were recently tightened. He hated the bear, he hated this restaurant, and more than anything he hated this trap that he found himself in. His metal prison. He’d show them, though. He would free himself, and then, and then, and then…

“Last brick, Freddy. You want to do the honors?”

“Of course he does, Bonnie! He’s the boss!”

Freddy looked in the room through the tiny hole, one last brick remaining to seal the tomb. Crimson eyes glowered at him from within, the immeasurable hostility they emitted making him all the more thankful for this miracle to have occurred. He'd give a prayer of thanks to the Almighty, but he wasn't much for vanity.

“Sorry, friend,” he whispered, “but you don't have the right stuff to be a part of the band. I promise though, we’ll remember you! Always!”

It screamed then, a loud, piercing cry that told a story of murder, pain, and torment. Of unremitting suffering. The creature crawled as much as the space would allow, inching itself towards the gap, but unable to reach. It pushed against the freshly made wall, but found itself too feeble to shift the unset masonry.

“HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HA-“

“Goodbye, child murderer. And thank you for your continued employment.”

And with a final brick silence filled the hall. A weak scratching against the wall, and then nothing. Freddy basked in the afterglow, feeling refreshed and revitalized. Like he had just come off the assembly line for the first time, ready to tackle the world. It was still for a few moments before anyone dared speak, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“Aww, that was a shame, Freddy,” Chica remarked sadly, “We could’ve used him as a backup in the band.”

“All things in their proper place, Chica. All things in their proper place.”


End file.
